The Garden
by Feathercroft
Summary: Currently ongoing! - The Queen wasn't what the people expected. Indeed, she wasn't what anyone had expected; but when Prince Henry brought home his bride the court could not help but fall in love.
1. The Garden

Hey everyone! I'm on a role lately with EA stories. :) Hope you like this one!

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

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The Queen wasn't what the people expected. Indeed, she wasn't what anyone had expected; but when Prince Henry brought home his bride the court could not help but fall in love. Danielle de Barbarac was charming and intelligent as well as uniquely beautiful. It was no wonder the Prince chose to marry for love. Even as a princess, she disliked being waited on. She insisted on doing just about everything on her own, bathing and dressing especially. The rumor was that the new princess had a collection of unsightly scars from beatings she received as a child (heard from a chambermaid who had accidentally seen them, of course); the truth was that they were much fresher than anyone could imagine. She disliked being indoors, and she could often be found digging in her own personal garden, as she was now, where she would dig and prune until nightfall.

The sun warmed the skin of her back through the expensive burgundy silk gown she wore, which was surely ruined by the garden soil, but as she wiped a sheen of sweat off her brow with the back of her hand she couldn't help but smile. These roses had taken a year of nurturing to grow and now the branches were full of fat pink blossoms. Henry had brought them back with him during a trip to Navarre as a gift and Danielle could not have been more pleased if he had brought her all the precious jewels in the world. She rocked back onto her heels carefully, lifted one of the blossoms to her nose and inhaled. The sweet perfume it emitted was intoxicating. Taking up a pair of shears, she clipped the thorns and stem and took another deep breath.

"I love that look," came a voice from behind her. Danielle turned her head and smiled, the rose still pressed to her nose. Henry was leaning casually in the gateway, arms and feet crossed, with a content smile on his face. She wanted to jump up and embrace him; her husband had been in Paris for the last three months and she had many things to tell him.

"How long have you been standing there?" she asked.

"Long enough to know that you stick your tongue out when you are concentrating especially hard." he teased, crossing the little garden paths with long stride to help her stand.

"I do not!" she protested, but he only smiled.

"And to see that even covered in muck, you're beautiful as ever." She smiled at that and kissed him sweetly.

" But you couldn't see my face, you were behind me all the while."

"Ah, but you see, I know you well enough to predict how you'll look. And there's a little hole in the hedge." Danielle smacked his arm lightly.

"Well, since you've been so rude as to interrupt me, how do you like my roses?" Danielle held the rose she'd plucked up for him to smell. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

"Beautiful." he said simply, folding her into his arms for another kiss. "I've missed you so much."

"I've missed you, too, my dearest. And I have some exciting news." Danielle could not stop herself from grinning when he raised an eyebrow. She took his hand and placed it over the bodice of her gown. Underneath, he could feel her stomach was round and firm, and his eyes grew larger and brighter with the discovery.

"Are you…" he trailed off, but didn't need an answer. Her smile said everything he needed to know.

With that, he swept her up off the ground and spun around the way he had when she had agreed to be his wife. Her red-gold hair flew out behind her as she laughed - high, clear and lovely, and kissed him sweetly.

That night at dinner, the happy couple announced to the entire court their joyous news. The dining hall exploded with cheers and applause and later many courtiers offered their congratulations. Yes, it was no wonder the prince chose to marry for love, for surely their child would be the most beloved of all.

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R&R, please and thank you!


	2. The Painter

Oh my gosh, it's been so long since I've written anything Ever After related, but I promise I'll do my best to keep up with this one! I hope you guys enjoy the second chapter of this fic. Let me know in the reviews what you think!

Disclaimer: I do not own Ever After or any of the characters, even though I would like to.

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Gustav's jaw hung slack at the sight that greeted him when he arrived at court. His oldest and best friend, once a simple farm girl turned princess overnight, stood on the arm of her husband with her free hand resting on the eight month swell of her pregnant belly. She beamed at him as he dismounted the horse he had ridden and moved forward to wrap him in a fierce hug. Gently, he returned it.

"It is so good to see you, Gustav." she said, holding him at arm's length. The proud curve of her belly stood between them.

"Am I allowed to hug you? You're a princess, after all." He asked, passing an apologetic glance to Prince Henry, who was standing to the side trying to cover a laugh. Danielle gave an unladylike little snort.

"Princess or not, I could still whip you." She said, playfully poking him in the ribs. Gustav laughed then, seeing that his best friend had not changed a bit.

The Prince chuckled warmly, extending a hand to Gustav. "Welcome back, Gustav. It will be good to have you in residence to keep her in line." They clasped hands for a moment, sharing a joke at Danielle's expense that she would certainly repay in kind later, but for that moment she was all smiles.

"Come, let's all go inside," she said brightly. "I've had some rooms made up for you and I want you to see them!"

Without another word she took Henry's arm and the three of them walked together into the palace. Along the way Gustav told them of his travels. Signore Da Vinci had insisted he accompany him to Rome to study the art being created there.

"There are three classes of people;" he had said. "Those who see, those who see what they are shown and those who do not see. And you, my young friend, see everything."

He told them about the enormous glory of the Colosseum, the freshly painted frescos of the Sistine Chapel (painted by Da Vinci's rival, Michelangelo), the Pantheon, Saint Peter's Basilica and 'The Gates of Paradise' at the Battistero di San Giovanni, a giant set of bronze doors depicting scenes of the Old Testament. From there they traveled all over the countryside to observe nature in its purest form, where Gustav saw the Mediterranean ocean for the first time.

"I've never seen so many types of art or so many natural wonders; I could hardly take it all in. It seems the whole world has opened up for me." By the end of his stories he was nearly breathless. Danielle laughed and took him by the hand.

"I'm glad to see you're still the same, Gustav. A little more cultured, but the same." she said as the three of them stopped in front of a set of double doors.

"Welcome to your new rooms," Henry said, opening the door and ushering his wife and friend inside.

The room was large and bright. Tall windows with heavy indigo blue curtains flanked the far right wall, casting light across the polished mahogany furniture and the art supplies laid out there. An easel was set up near the fireplace where a maid was coaxing new flames to life. To the far left was a set of pocket doors leading into the bedchamber, decorated similarly with tones of deep blue and mahogany. Finally, all along the walls were empty portrait frames of all shapes and sizes.

"We thought you would like to add your own touch to the apartments since you'll be in residence with us." Danielle said, gesturing to the walls. She took a seat near the newly built fire and rested a hand on her round belly. "Forgive me Gustav, the little one is making me a little more tired than usual today."

Henry crossed the room to stand behind his wife as Gustav continued to admire his new apartments. The happy couple exchanging satisfied glances as he moved toward the art supplies.

"I hope those will be adequate, I haven't a head for art." Henry said a little sheepishly.

"This is more than I would have expected, thank you Your Majesty." Gustav gave a little courtly little bow that made Danielle chuckle. After a few more minutes of polite conversation, the prince and his wife excused themselves so he might explore his new home on his own.

"I think I'll go rest a while," Danielle said, rubbing a hand absentmindedly across her stomach.

"I'll escort you, dear. It's good to see you again, Gustav. We'll see you at dinner this evening."

Once they had gone Gustav set about unpacking his art cases. Soon many of the portrait frames were filled with his sketches and paintings, making the room feel more personal. The rest he would fill later, but for now he was satisfied. After a little while he noticed the maid from the fireplace silently unpacking his clothing trunk.

"Really, I can do that on my own." He said, hovering behind her as she hung his clothes in the wardrobe.

"Please sir, it's my pleasure. Besides, I'm already finished." she said with a sweet smile. Indeed, all his clothes had been hung neatly by color in the closet. "Is there anything else I can do for you? Perhaps some tea?"

"Oh, no thank you miss..." He grappled for a moment before he realized he'd not asked her name. "I'm sorry, I suppose we haven't been introduced properly. My name is Gustav Benoit."

"There's no need for apology sir, I'm only a chambermaid, but my name is Jeanne." She walked toward the double doors and paused near the bell pull. "If there's anything you need, you can pull the rope here and one of the other maids or I will come straight away."

Without another word she inclined her head and left as quickly as she had come leaving Gustav, who was staring at the bell pull, all alone.

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I hope you all enjoyed this little snippet, leave me a comment to let me know!


	3. The Queen

**EDITED!

Hey everybody! Here's another chapter for you. Let me know what you think in the reviews!

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

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That night at dinner King Francis did not dine with his people. Prince Henry and his wife sat at the head table with Queen Marie, holding courtly dinner in his absence, but behind their mild smiles uncertainty brewed. Below the table, the royal couple held hands to ease the discomfort. No one would say it, but the King was deathly ill. His doctors, heavily bribed into silence, said he was unlikely to recover. The Queen, upon hearing the news, locked herself in the chapel for hours to pray; for now she was smiling, greeting courtiers who came to bow before the royal family with grace and charm.

Henry and Danielle received many congratulations and well wishes, most prominently among them from Danielle's step-sister Jacqueline and her husband Captain John Laurent who had recently returned to court from their honeymoon.

"I cannot believe how much we've missed!" Jacqueline exclaimed, her eyes wide. Danielle smiled and rubbed a hand absentmindedly across her belly, slightly disturbing the seed pearls sewn into the bodice.

"You've certainly been missed," Henry replied, smiling. "Danielle's not quite been herself without you."

Jacqueline smiled at her step-sister. Free from the oppressive thumb of her mother Rodmilla, she had flourished into a wonderful woman and a great friend to the princess. They were constantly in each other's presence, their bond growing into one of actual sisterhood. As a wedding gift, Danielle gave them de Barbarac Manor.

"I am so glad to see you again. Will you stay at court long?"

"For a while," John answered. "We've made plans for the manor that I think you would be quite proud of."

"I look forward to seeing them." Danielle smiled at the pair as they bowed and moved on, happy to see them again.

"Come," Henry said to his wife during a lull in courtiers. He stood and extended a hand to her.

"Dance with me."

Danielle lifted herself carefully out of her chair, one hand on her rounded belly and the other on her husband's arm. She knew he had news to share with her; dancing had become a way for them to communicate in a room full of people without the fear of being overheard or interrupted. As they moved away from the head table the music that had been playing faded to silence and the courtiers enjoying their dinners stopped chatting to watch the young couple as they took the floor. With a nod from the Prince the music began again, this time as a slow waltz. Other couples joined them as the rest watched, unaware of the conversation being had on the floor.

"Have you seen him today?" Danielle asked, her voice only a whisper above the music. They took their first steps, sweeping forward and back in rhythm.

"I tried this afternoon while you rested, but his doctors wouldn't allow me inside his rooms." Henry's mouth set in a grim line. "He's much worse."

"His fever?" she asked before being swept in an arc, her hunter green gown swishing out behind her. Henry pulled her close again, or as close as the baby between them would allow.

"Unbroken. He's not awake most of the day, they say, but when he is he's delirious."

Danielle watched at him as they moved across the floor. Henry's usually smiling face had become a mask of hurt - it was a look she had worn herself in the years after her father's death, when her step-mother had taken away all but her pride. Being pregnant, she had not been allowed anywhere near the King for the safety of the baby growing within her, and she had consequently underestimated the severity of his condition.

"What do the doctors say?" she asked quietly, afraid of the answer. To predict the King's death was treason.

"A week, maybe less." Henry replied grimly.

The baby kicked and squirmed then and Danielle settled a hand on her rounded belly, thankfully without losing step. The happiness she had felt only minutes before was completely stamped out at the change in topic. If the King died, Henry would inherit the throne and would Danielle take up the official title of Queen of France. She already controlled part of the household, laundry and kitchen staff specifically, but could not yet imagine managing the rest alone. She had always been the servant, not the served, and managing a royal household, even with help, was more work than she had realized. Not for the first time, she wondered if she could actually do the job.

"Henry…"

The music ended before she could voice her concerns, but was sure that Henry knew what she had wanted to say. He bent at the waist and kissed her hand soundly as couples parted on the dance floor, lingering with her a few moments longer. Once they had returned to the head table, the Queen smiled at them a little sadly and announced her departure for the evening.

"I'm going to the chapel," she said. She put a hand out to Danielle and touched her shoulder gently. "You should rest too, dear. For the baby."

Danielle gave her a wan little smile, noticing at once how tired she had become. She gave Henry's hand a squeeze.

"I'll accompany you, if you don't mind." The Queen nodded graciously. Henry sent them off with a smile, tight as it was, and promised to see his wife later that night.

The Queen and her daughter-in-law walked arm in arm down the long hall toward the grand staircase. Aside from a few servants and pageboys on errands, the halls were empty this time of the evening.

"Thank you for joining me," the she said, patting Danielle's hand where it rested on the full sleeve of her gown. "It's good to not be alone at the moment."

"Of course, Your Majesty." Danielle felt a little uneasy. She had not been alone much with her mother-in-law and was completely unsure of how to act.

"I know things have been difficult for you lately," the Queen said, her steps slowing slightly. "Pregnancy can be quite a struggle. Henry gave me such sickness I could hardly get out of bed in the mornings. But you're a strong woman."

They stopped at the base of the stairs when Queen Marie turned to Danielle and looked at her. Motherhood suited the girl; her skin glowed despite her obvious fatigue and the baby carried high and proud under her gown. Overcome with maternal instinct, she reached out to touch the young woman's belly.

"You'll have a boy, I think." she said at last, pulling her hand away. Danielle, surprised, could not answer.

"Forgive me," the Queen said, a little uncomfortably. "I never had a daughter. Henry is my only child, stubborn as he is."

"It's all right; I never knew my mother." Danielle said.

They stood in silence for a long moment, neither of them knowing quite what to say. Queen Marie had always wanted a baby girl, but fate is a cruel mistress. Her ability to have children was stripped from her shortly after Henry was born, leaving her feeling quite hopeless. When Henry finally married, she had hoped to take his wife in as a surrogate daughter, but Danielle was strong-willed and independent. The independence being a byproduct of her upbringing. After her father's death, without a mother to care for her, Danielle had instead been raised by two maids, Paulette and Louise, who taught her how to be as a servant while her step-mother cruelly ruled her home. Neither knew what to expect from the other, if anything at all.

"Are you worried about your place here?" the Queen asked. She was being uncharacteristically bold, but she knew subtlety would be wasted on Danielle's continued shyness.

"I only want to do my best for everyone. I'm learning, but it is still overwhelming at times." Danielle wrung her hands together. She hadn't admitted to anyone how absolutely out of place she felt and was surprised she had confessed it to the Queen especially.

"I felt the same way when I married the King," she replied, smiling gently at her daughter-in-law's familiar nervousness. "I had been trained my whole life for marriage, but even as I said my wedding vows I doubted my abilities. I have learned, however, that you can never be fully prepared for what comes. You can only do your best, as you put it, even when things are difficult."

"Our responsibilities may be limited to the household, but we hold more power than we think. Through our charity and words we shape the views of the people here at court. It is a big responsibility, but it is one I think you can manage. Most importantly, you will not be alone. You have Henry, who loves you dearly, and you have me, should you want my guidance." She paused, watching Danielle's face as she considered what she had said.

"I hope someday you will come to see me as a mother." the Queen said at last, smiling at her daughter-in-law. Danielle returned it sweetly and boldly took her hand.

"I would like that." For another long moment they looked at each other, both feeling a little relieved.

The ladies parted at the stairs, exchanging goodnight's and warm smiles. That night, as the rest of the palace slept, the Queen prayed for her husband's health, her son's throne, and her daughter-in-law's happiness.

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	4. The Struggle

Hey everybody! First off, I want to apologize! Yesterday I uploaded the a chapter I'd written last year that I'd tweaked recently with the intention of uploading. I've gone back and replaced it with the right one, so please re-read the last chapter. Thanks!

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

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It was nearly midnight when Henry finally made it to the bedroom he shared with his wife. He had expected her to be fast asleep but instead he found her sitting up in her favorite chair near the fireplace, an open book in her lap. Even in a nightgown, she was beautiful. She didn't look up when he entered and he wondered for a moment if she was ignoring him, but as he watched her he noticed her eyes were fixed on the page, completely unmoving.

"Danielle?" She snapped to attention at the sound of her name, turning her head toward the door where Henry still stood. She offered him a weak smile and shut her book.

"Are you all right?" he asked, crossing the room to join her near the fire.

"I don't know," she answered, turning the book over in her hands. "I've been thinking."

"About…?" She chewed her bottom lip. In all the time he had known her, he had never seen Danielle so uneasy. It was contagious. "Is it the baby?"

"No, the baby is fine. I was thinking about the future. I spoke with your mother earlier. I'm worried I won't make a good queen. I know the people accept me as their princess, I'm happy for it, but I'm not like your mother. The queen is all grace and light; I'm still rough."

Henry considered what she said. Danielle had been raised a farm girl, without the airs and refinement that should have been a part of her life since her birth. Her mother may not have been a countess, but her family had been prosperous. It wasn't until her father's second marriage to the vain and selfish Baroness that the family's fortune was swept away. Henry left his chair to kneel before her and gently kissed her fingers.

"This country could use some roughness, Danielle." When she quirked an eyebrow, he chuckled.

"What I mean is this: from the day we met, I knew you were different. Your spirit and belief in people drew me to you in a way I cannot describe. That same spirit draws people to you now. I know you are afraid of not being the queen people expect, but you don't have to be. You are perfect just as you are."

Danielle heaved a sigh. He was right, of course. She was still becoming accustomed to the life of royalty, but she was also making her mark among the people at court. As a figurehead for the country her husband would one day rule, she would have to learn to be graceful.

"Your mother offered to help me." she confessed, a blush creeping into her cheeks. Henry's mouth pulled up at the corner.

"Queen lessons, is it?" Danielle smiled at that and lightly smacked his shoulder. The book on her lap slipped to the floor, but she didn't mind. Henry pulled her carefully out of the chair. She sat before him on the carpet, leaning her back against his chest contentedly. With his hands resting on her full belly, he could feel the baby stir. He placed a little kiss on her cheek.

"You'll learn," he said softly. "And I have no doubt you will be a great queen and mother."

"I hope so. It's getting close to that time." Danielle rubbed a hand across her belly.

"How do you know?" Henry was all lost when it came to the baby.

"The baby is turning," she said. "I can feel it. See?" She guided his hand to the baby's head.

"It's lower than before. It used to be here," she said, moving his hand higher. "At the manor, when the cattle would have their babies the calf would start to shift close to being born. I can't imagine I'm much different."

Henry stroked the baby's head again, excitement filling up his chest. If Danielle was right, it wouldn't be long until he could touch the baby with his own hands and hold it in his arms as it slept. Becoming a father was the most exciting and daunting idea in the world. Being king of France would be nothing compared to being a good father to his child. The baby twitched under his hand and he smiled.

"I can't wait." he whispered. Danielle shifted a little in his arms, turning her head for a kiss.

"Neither can I. I'm so glad your mother doesn't believe in confinement." Henry laughed, his chest rumbling against her back.

"Indeed, I don't know if I could stand another day without you." This time, Danielle laughed.

"We haven't been apart since Paris!" she said, turning her head to look at him. He smiled and kissed her deeply.

"Exactly. And I don't want to repeat that experience anytime soon."

They spent the next few hours wrapped up together until the fire burned down to only a few glowing embers. By then, Danielle had fallen asleep in her husband's arms. He carried her into the bedroom and laid her gently between the sheets before slipping in beside her for a restful night's sleep.

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	5. The Chambermaid

Hey everybody! I've been on a roll lately. I hope you enjoy this chapter! R&R!

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

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Court was intimidating. No matter where he went, courtiers, carriages and workers made him dizzy with their busyness.

So Gustav sat at his great mahogany desk, as he did most days, sketching faces on loose leafs of paper. In the afternoon he much preferred the solitude of his workroom to the hustle and bustle of the courtyard. It was only before dawn that he could set up his easel there and paint the countryside, which resulted in many grey, dreary landscapes he swore would never see the sun. Without portraits to paint, he had turned to sketching. His stick of charcoal scratched across the paper is short strokes, staining his fingers and the page equally. He'd sketched this face before, many times in fact, but it became clearer each time.

The face was almost heart shaped, with soft cheeks and a pointed chin. Deep set brown eyes sat above an upturned nose and perpetually smiling full lips. The hair, which Gustav decided looked much better free from binding, was darkly shaded and hung in soft waves around the shoulders. He smiled appreciatively at his newest work and brushed a hand through his mussed hair, leaving a black smudge on his forehead.

He didn't hear her when she entered the room; he rarely did, for she was quiet as a church mouse.

"Pardon, but -" she began, quickly cut off by a flurry of arms and paper. Gustav turned to see Jeanne standing in the middle of the room, mop in hand, blue eyes wide with surprise. The sketches he'd been working on spilled haplessly to the floor.

"I'm sorry!" Jeanne exclaimed, stooping to pick up the papers that had settled near her feet.

Before he had time to react, she had seen them. All the pictures in her hands were pictures of her and her eyes, which were wide to begin with, grew wider. Her lovely cheeks flushed red all the way to the neck of her dress. Gustav, too, was blushing rather furiously as he gathered up the rest of the sketches. He watched her out of the corner of his eye as she straightened, papers in hand, and stared at him. He couldn't meet her eyes.

"This is… me?" she asked after a long moment. Gustav only nodded, obviously embarrassed.

She continued looking at the picture in her hand. He had drawn her looking over her shoulder, smiling broadly. It was beautiful. So were the others, and soon Jeanne was smiling.

"They are beautiful," she said at last.

Gustav was still sitting at the desk, his head in his hands, but he perked up a bit when he heard her speak. When he dared to look up she had moved to stand beside him and was admiring the other sketches strewn across his desk.

"Truly," she said, setting the pages she'd picked up among the others. "No one has ever drawn me before."

He met her eyes and was surprised how clearly they stared back at him. He didn't know how long they looked at each other but it felt as natural as sunshine. She bathed him in the warmth of her smile and he returned it, slowly at first, but soon he couldn't control his grin.

"I got your eyelashes wrong," he said, breaking the silence. She broke into a giggle that she tried, and failed, to stifle with her hand.

"You have charcoal on your face," she replied sweetly. Gustav wiped at his cheeks with the sleeve of his shirt, missing the spot completely. Jeanne laughed more openly at his unintentional antics and reached for her handkerchief.

"Allow me," she said, brushing his overgrown brown hair away with her free hand. She wiped away the smudge gently and tucked it back into the pocket of her work dress.

"All better."

He wanted to kiss her. Gustav had never wanted to kiss another person in his entire life, but he wanted to kiss Jeanne. He imagined her lips were soft and sweet, like the petals of a beautiful pink rose. He wondered what it would be like to bury his hands in her dark hair, loosening the pins until it spilled down her back in glossy auburn waves, to pull her close. He shook his head in an attempt to chase away his thoughts. She was standing right there, after all! Or she had been just a moment ago.

When Gustav looked around, Jeanne had taken up her mop and stepped toward the door, her head bowed inoffensively.

"I'm so sorry to have disturbed you," she said quietly. Before he could say a word, she slipped out the door and into the hallway.

Jeanne walked quickly down the corridor, praying he would not follow her. What was she thinking, touching a man like that? It was entirely too bold and she should not have enjoyed it the way she had. Even now, she could feel the warmth humming inside her. She had laughed, loud and true, for the first time in her years as a maid. She wanted to laugh again. She could not allow herself that. She knew her place and if he told anyone what had happened she would surely be turned out at once. Even though her heart still beat an uneven rhythm, she steeled herself.

"I won't be so informal again," she whispered to herself as she stepped quickly toward the kitchens. "I will perform my duties silently and forget."

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	6. The Game

Hey everyone, here's another (very) short chapter for you. I promise the next chapter will be longer! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

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Autumn rain splattered hard and fast against the window panes of the royal suite where Danielle was playing cards with Gustav. The rain was relentless, coming down in cold torrents that were unusual so early in the season. The storm had blown in the night before and showed no signs of stopping, putting the princess in a foul mood. Her body ached all over and she longed to take a walk in her garden. It was Gustav, however, who was unusually withdrawn and had been for the last four days. He was currently staring out the window, his cards carelessly angled to reveal his hand.

"So tell me," Danielle said, setting her hand of cards on the table between them. "What put you in such a bad mood? It can't be the weather."

Gustav snapped back to attention. He seemed to be slipping into his thoughts more and more since his encounter with Jeanne. He waited for her every morning, hoping for a chance to see her and apologize for his behavior, but she never came. He found himself walking through the hallways looking for her only to return to his rooms disappointed.

"It's nothing," he said at last, but Danielle was his closest friend and wouldn't take that as an answer.

"You can't tell me there's not a reason for it, Gustav. The past few days you've been quieter than I have ever seen you. You always have something to say. So please, tell me what's wrong."

Danielle reached across the card table and took his free hand in encouragement. Before he knew it he had told her everything, from the first day he laid eyes on Jeanne to the encounter they'd had only days before. He explained how she made him feel and how heartbroken he felt now that she was so avidly avoiding him. When he had finished, Danielle broke out in a smile.

"So you're in love."

Gustav had a rejection of the notion ready on his tongue but couldn't make the words come out. He knew in his heart that he loved Jeanne. She had unknowingly become his muse and, even though he tried to fight it, he secretly hoped she felt the same about him.

"Yes," he said at last, feeling the great weight of his secret lifting off his shoulders just slightly. "But she won't see me. I offended her, I'm sure."

"I don't think you offended her, Gustav, I think maybe she is afraid she offended you. Servants are taught to neither be seen or heard; I would know, I was brought up that way as well. Still, you should tell her how you feel." Danielle squeezed his hand, but he still looked troubled.

"What if she doesn't feel the same way?" he asked, so quiet she almost didn't hear it. Her face softened, remembering how she felt the same not so long ago.

"She won't see me; I don't know if she's even here anymore." Gustav pulled his hand away and raked them through his messy hair.

Danielle had never seen her friend so broken down. She made a promise to herself then that she would do whatever it took to see him happy again.

"We will find her, Gustav. You helped me with Henry and I will help you with Jeanne. I know exactly what to do."

When Gustav left, Danielle slipped down to the laundry with one goal in mind. She would find the one person she knew could help her, the only question was whether or not Marguerite would agree to it.

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	7. The Laundress

Hello everybody! Here is the latest chapter. I hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

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Castle laundry was a busy place. Women carrying large bundles of sheets or gowns needing cleaning or mending hurried between enormous vats of steaming water and dye in a never-ending cycle. For the past two years, Marguerite had grown accustomed to her new lifestyle. She was still bitter, of course, but when her mother abandoned her not long after their mutual sentencing she had no choice but to accept her fate. She had no title, no social rank, and for a long time, no friends. One of the seamstresses, Agnes, took pity on her and they soon became friends, spending most of their free time together.

From her new friend Marguerite had learned how to haul water from the river without straining the unused muscles of her back, how to make bars of lye soap for removing stains and how to use milk and lavender to sooth her dry, cracked hands after a long day of work. Under Agnes's careful watch, she blossomed into a woman everyone wanted to befriend. Marguerite quickly became the hub of castle gossip, which was exactly why Danielle sought her out.

When the princess happened upon her, Marguerite was busy pushing laundry around a copper vat with a long wooden paddle. It wasn't unusual for workers to see the princess in the kitchens or servant's hallways, but Marguerite never expected her step-sister to seek her out.

"May I speak to you?" Danielle asked, almost yelling over the noise of the washroom.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, her free hand settling jauntily on her hip. She hadn't seen her step-sister since her mother had run away, and even then they hadn't spoken to each other directly.

"Please, I need your help," Danielle said beseechingly.

Marguerite sighed, laid her paddle down on the platform and stepped down to the floor. The women walked together out of the laundry and into the outer servant's hallway. It was quieter here, without the loud sounds of the vats and presses drowning out words. Marguerite leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed, and watched the princess. She seemed stressed, nervous even, and she couldn't help but wonder what would make this woman who had risen to power so quickly seek guidance from someone who had sunk so low.

Their relationship, if you could call it that, was strained at best and volatile at worst. Throughout their childhood Marguerite had tormented her step-sister and, being the eldest by two months and her mother's favorite, she was never punished for her bad behavior. They never had a kind word for one another and more than once their arguments had turned physical, leaving them both with scars and bruises. Seeing her now, adorned in the royal garments Marguerite had once lusted after with a royal baby in her belly, her jealousy sparked and died in her heart. Without her mother to fan the flames of hatred and ambition, Marguerite could not keep it alive.

"How can I help you, Your Highness?" Marguerite asked finally, involuntary sarcasm creeping into her words.

"Do you know a housemaid named Jeanne?" she asked, maybe a little to loudly. For all her lovely qualities, tact was not one Danielle always possessed.

"I might; there are a few women named Jeanne here, it's quite a popular name." She wasn't being cruel or sarcastic this time. It was true, there were many women working in the castle who shared the name.

"She works upstairs, or did a few days ago, in the artist's gallery." Marguerite quirked an eyebrow.

"This has to do with your painter boy, doesn't it?" Danielle chewed her lip in response.

"He's in love with her."

Marguerite smiled, satisfied. "I know the one you mean."

"I was flowed to the kitchens the other night and overheard her speaking with a steward. She wanted to be moved to another floor but I didn't hear why. From what I understand her request was denied. I couldn't tell you where she is now, but I could find out for a price."

Blast. Danielle knew it might come to this. She knew Marguerite could be ruthless, not above using blackmail to get what she wanted, and feared what she might be getting herself into. The two women stared at each other, sizing each other up like feral animals. Neither were particularly inclined to trust the other, but for the moment, they had no one else to rely on. In her oversized work dress and head cover, Marguerite did not look as intimidating as she once had and she knew she looked imposing in her royal attire. It gave Danielle a bit of confidence, shallow as it was, to see her step-sister humbled.

"What do you want?" she asked, her face betraying her wariness.

"I want your permission to marry." Marguerite said simply.

"I am not being courted," she continued. "But I want your assurance that I can, should the situation arise. Despite what you may think of me, I do have my own ambitions. My mother shattered my reputation along with hers and now that she has run away I am completely on my own. I am not unaware that I have been labeled a criminal and that, by your word, I have been saved from an even worse fate. I hope that you will see that I only want for myself what you have earned - a life, and someday a family of my own."

This was certainly not the answer Danielle expected and she did not know how to react. It was true, Marguerite was a criminal, but she was also a human. She remembered the day she confronted her husband in the courtyard of this very palace for the same issue, but Marguerite was not raised the way those men had been. They were raised in poverty, forced to crime by necessity. She was the daughter of a baroness, raised with wealth and entitlement. Her life had spoiled her and her punishment had humbled her to dust. She was looking at her now, searching with her eager blue eyes for an answer. An answer for an answer. Danielle would have to take this chance.

"Marguerite, this is not a decision I can make on my own," Danielle said carefully. "But you have my word that, when the time comes, you will have my consent to marry."

Marguerite's face broke into a smile, bright and sincere. For the first time, she felt something like kindness toward her step-sister. She had the answer she wanted, tentative as it was, and she would keep her part of the bargain.

"Thank you, You Highness." Marguerite made a low curtsy. "I will find your chambermaid for you."

An hour later, Marguerite sat under the eave of the chapel where she had asked Agnes to send the girl once she found her. The rain had let up to a drizzle, but the air was still chilled and Marguerite was beginning to wish she had brought a thicker cape when she saw a figure huddled against the cold hurrying across the courtyard. She ducked out of the rain and stood against the chapel wall, clutching her wool cloak tight around her petite frame. When she took down her hood, Marguerite could see why the painter had fallen in love with her.

"Well, you are lovely," Marguerite sniffed. The girl blushed a most fetching shade of pink but said nothing.

"Do you know why I've asked you here?" Jeanne shook her head. "The princess asked after you."

The girl's brown eyes grew wide with dread and Marguerite let out a snort. This girl couldn't be older than eighteen years old. From what Agnes had told her she had only come to work at the castle a year ago; her father come from Angoumois to beg a steward to put in a good word for her. Her father was a sickly man, thin and gray, and the steward took pity on him and his young daughter.

"Don't worry, you're not going to be terminated," she said. "She wanted me to ask you what happened in the artist's suite that you refuse to go back."

"I offended the man who lives there," she offered without explanation. She didn't want to confess her feelings to a complete stranger but her eyes were starting to burn with the tears she had held back for days and before she could stop them they were making tracks down her face.

Marguerite watched in uncomfortable silence as the girl dissolved into tears. She wasn't the type to comfort; it wasn't something her mother encouraged in her as a child. When she got a scraped knee or felt poorly Rodmilla would do no more than tell her to get over it.

"It displays weakness," she would say unsympathetically, leaving Marguerite to fix the problem herself. Once, when she was only five, she took a hard fall from the steps of the family carriage and bloodied both hands and knees. Her mother simply stepped over her on the way out, saying: "I hope you have not ruined your dress, it cost thirty pounds." She spent days picking out the bits of gravel from her palms. Seeing Jeanne weep now only irritated the memory. She gave an overloud sigh and the girl stifled her sobs.

"You did not offend him. He is in love with you." Jeanne blinked her brown eyes, a little red from crying, and brought her hands to her mouth.

"He loves me?" she whispered. Marguerite nodded.

"Yes. He searches for you every day, but since you have been avoiding him he's nearly given up. The princess asks that, if you care for him too, that you go to him at once." She finished relaying the message with a tight-lipped smile.

The girl's face lost its sad expression. It transformed in her sudden happiness, something Marguerite had never seen, and she thanked her profusely for the news. Without another word, Jeanne stepped away from the chapel wall and fell into a run across the courtyard. Marguerite, satisfied with her work, returned to the laundry room. Soon enough her step-sister would hear about this exchange, but for now, she had another task in mind. In a chest under her little bed was the dress she had worn to her own arrest and, even though it was a little outdated, she would use it to serve her new purpose: to find a husband.

In his rooms, Gustav sat disappointed. Once again he had gone to look for Jeanne and had not found her. On the desk before him were all the sketches he had made, each different and beautiful, but one stood out for him. She stood on the page the way she had the last time he had seen her, head down with hands clasped, and it killed him inside. He took up the pages and shoved them into a drawer, willing himself to forget them. He picked up his charcoal stick and sketched again, filling the sheet with spirals and geometric shapes.

Suddenly, the door banged open behind him and once again his papers went flying. He turned, his heart racing from the noise, to see Jeanne standing in the doorway quite out of breath. Her dark hair had fallen from its pins and was hanging around her cloaked shoulders in wild curls. Her cheeks were flushed from exertion and her breathing was deep and hard, but her eyes were clear.

"Jeanne…" Gustav's surprised words trailed off as he came out of his chair. Without preamble, she crossed the room and kissed him.

Just a brush, whisper soft and sweet, of smooth lips against his own. Jeanne pushed away to look at him, her hands still squarely on his chest, her brown eyes searching his face for a reaction. Gustav said nothing, but shyly reached up a hand and buried it in her dark hair, still damp from the rain, and pulled her gently to him once again. Kissing Jeanne was altogether more wonderful than he had ever dreamed. She was soft and responsive to his touch, albeit a little more damp than he had imagined, but perfect. When they finally broke apart, both a little flushed and breathing unevenly, they talked about that day.

"Why did you run?"

"I was afraid," she replied, tucking her wild mass of curls behind her ears. "My father struggled to find work for me in Angoumois and brought me here to beg an old friend for help. He was a proud man, but he was very sick and we needed the money to survive. He died two months ago, and when I realized what I had done I knew I would be turned out if anyone knew. It's not proper."

Gustav reached out and took her hands. They were small and fit perfectly in his own, as if they belonged there. He pressed kisses into her palms.

"I'm sorry about your father," he said. "And I'm sorry you were so afraid because of me. I never expected this to happen."

"Did you really look for me?" Jeanne asked.

"Yes," he said, blushing a little. "Today, even. I had almost given up hope."

Jeanne couldn't help but smile. He did love her, and she loved him, unexpected as it was. Suddenly she felt like a new chapter of her life had opened up, waiting to be written. She leaned forward until there was only inches between them, her dark hair falling to frame her face in a particularly fetching way.

"I promise you will never need to feel that way again." she whispered.

With that, she closed the space between them.

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	8. The King

Hey everybody, sorry this is such a short chapter! I promise longer ones to come. R&R!

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

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Henry paced the room he shared with his wife like a caged animal. For the second time this week he had been turned away from his father's rooms by his physicians and the rejection had not settled well with him. His wife, who had been napping on their big bed before he stormed in, was trying to calm his anger. It was not unusual for Henry to openly express his frustrations but this was unlike his normal, some-what childish outbursts. This anger was decidedly different and it frightened her.

"I am the prince of France!" he bellowed. "I should damn well be able to see my father if I request it!"

Henry stormed around the room, turning over an armchair in his wake. It fell to the floor with a bang that made Danielle jump. She slipped of the bed and stood braced against the bedpost, hoping she would be able to stem the flood of anger with her presence as she had no words. Henry knocked over several other items before he finally stopped and looked at his wife. He immediately felt terrible; Danielle had never feared him, but he could see that she was gripping the bedpost so tightly with her fingers they had begun to whiten at the knuckles. He dropped onto the window seat and buried his head in his hands.

"Henry…" Danielle began slowly, not knowing exactly what to say. "I don't pretend to know how you are feeling. My father died suddenly."

Henry stiffened and she knew she had said the wrong thing. He jumped up again, eyes blazing with renewed anger. Before Danielle could speak again, Henry had crossed the room to the door and thrown it open.

"Henry, where are you going?" Her voice cracked. She had never seen him so upset and feared what he might do next.

"I'm going to demand to see my father. I'll not wait to see him until he is dead!"

With that, he slammed the door shut. Danielle squeezed her eyes shut and put a hand to her swollen belly. The baby moved uncomfortably, seeming to again sense it's mother's anguish. The feeling spread across her abdomen and all the way to her toes before subsiding. She did not know how to react to Henry's anger, and she feared what he would do now that he was gone. She sank to her knees there on the floor and cried for the first time since the masquerade ball that had changed her life.

Henry almost ran through the halls toward the King's chambers. He knew his wife hadn't meant to say anything to madden him but she had and now his anger had turned to all out rage. He was a prince, after all, and he would not stand by while his father lay dying when he held the power to dismiss anyone he damn well pleased. As he approached the heavy oak doors of his father's rooms he spied one of the physicians pulling them shut. Henry barked out a greeting, his hostility radiating in a way that the man could obviously feel. He put his back to the door as Henry came upon him, pinning him to that spot.

"Your Highness -" the man stuttered then shut his mouth. The prince had him pinned to the door; not even the guards outside the king's suites reacted to the assault.

"Let me in."

"Sire, please, the King cannot be disturbed. He is quite ill -"

"I don't care if he's ill, you will let me see my father! It is my right not only as his son but as the Crowned Prince of France and you will admit me!" The man gulped audibly.

"You will let me see my father," Henry demanded through gritted teeth. The man had no choice but to comply. He opened the door again quickly and ducked out of the way as the prince strode into the darkened room.

Even though it was nearing winter, it was oppressively hot in his father's rooms. Every fireplace was ablaze, spewing rosemary smoke meant to cleanse the evils plaguing his father. Many more herbs were strewn across the floor and were crushed underfoot as Henry moved more slowly toward his father. He could hear his labored breathing behind the thick curtains that hung closed around the bed, and when he pulled them to the side his heart plummeted.

The king had wasted away to practically nothing. His once plump form was now sunken, buried under layers of blankets that could still not hide his decaying frame. He was covered in sweat and his hands, which lay crossed against his once rounded belly, were white and bony, the blue of his veins showing through his skin. Henry watched as his chest rose and fell, great pauses punctuating each breath. He wasn't going to make it. He sank to his knees next to his father's bed and took one of the withered hands in his own.

"Father, I'm here," he said softly, stroking a thumb across the thin skin. "Can you hear me?"

The king shifted restlessly, but he gripped his son's hand in a way that made Henry believe maybe he knew he was there. Henry searched his thoughts, thinking of something to say while he could. He could apologize and beg forgiveness, his youth had been spent mostly on frustrating his father and once he'd married they had only had a few chances to reconcile, which never really happened. Too often they were absorbed in matters of state. Henry feared that now he would be too late.

"Father, I'm sorry I did not come sooner. I wish I had demanded to see you the very first day so I could speak with you instead of speaking at you. I'm sorry for everything, father." Henry choked a little on the smoke, or at least that is what he would say if anyone thought he might be crying. He only held on tighter to the dying man's hand.

"I am sorry for challenging you when I was younger. I did not realize how much you worried for me until I learned Danielle was with child; even now I can't imagine worrying more about my child than I do now and it will never be safer," A tear tracked down Henry's cheek and he rubbed at it furiously with the back of his hand. "More than anything, father, I'm sorry I never said this to you sooner. I should have, every day of my life."

The king broke into a coughing fit, blood spraying out onto his pale, cracked lips. Henry grabbed a handkerchief from the side table and wiped at his mouth, tears slipping from his eyes without attention now. He took many shallow breaths and squeezed his hands again.

"Henry…" the king croaked. Henry gripped his father's hands tighter.

"I'm here, father."

"Henry…" he said again, softer this time, before falling silent again.

The prince sat at his father's bedside early into the morning, sometimes speaking, sometimes silent, always gripping his thin hands. It wasn't until a guard burst into the room that Henry even looked up from his father's face.

"Your Highness, the princess requires your presence immediately." Henry's brow furrowed.

"Is she all right?" he asked, coming to standing.

"She is in labor."

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	9. The Baby

Hey guys! This chapter is a little short, but I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

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Never before had Danielle felt such pain.

She had toiled in fields since the age of eight, her muscles strained and painful after long days in the hot sun. For ten years, she suffered the constant pain of a bruised back and feet, but nothing could have prepared her for childbirth.

She sat up in bed, twisting the covers in her hands with the pain of contractions. It was intense, spreading all across her abdomen and back before fading again. It would be back soon though and Danielle could only brace herself for it. Someone had called for a midwife, but she lived at the edge of the city near the woods and Danielle knew she wouldn't arrive in time. Another contraction seized her and she cried out, calling attention from the people milling in the hallway.

She wanted to rip her nightgown off. Everything was hot and constricting, so she staggered to the windows and threw one open, relishing the rush of chilled air outside. She lifted the nightgown up around her hips and crouched on the floor just as pain washed over her. The contractions were coming fast, sweat poured off her body and onto the bare wood floor as she pushed for all she was worth. She could feel her body stretching and tearing before it numbed completely, releasing with a shudder. When she looked down, she could see the baby's head between her legs. She reached down to cradle the tiny head in her hands and waited for the next contraction. Two more pushes and the baby slid into her waiting hands. With a little choke, the baby began to cry.

He was perfect. Ten fingers, ten toes and a dusting of light hair on his sticky little head. All the pain Danielle had felt only moments before was forgotten as she wiped her baby boy with her nightgown.

"Damn you, let me in!" Danielle's head snapped up at the sound of her husband's voice.

"Henry!" she screamed out.

In a moment, he had burst through the door. When his eyes found them sitting on the floor beside the open window he dropped to his knees before them. The baby cried at his mother's breast as the couple kissed and hugged each other, neither one of them speaking. Danielle slumped against Henry's shoulder as he wrapped the baby in a thick towel and admired his fine little features.

The midwife came and went, snipping the cord that attached mother and child and putting Danielle back to bed. A little cradle was moved into the room and the baby was placed safely inside where he slept peacefully. Danielle was nearly asleep when Queen Marie floated into the room and kissed the girl warmly on both reddened cheeks. Her eyes fluttered shut and Marie frowned, smoothing a hand across her forehead.

"Henry," she said quietly. "Has she been this warm for long?"

"She gave birth over there by the window; it was wide open when I found them. The midwife says she may be feverish for the night, so she is going to stay here tonight to watch over her and the baby but I'll not be leaving their side." Henry reached into the cradle and lifted his boy out, holding him as gently as he knew how.

Marie looked at the sleeping girl, saying a little prayer for the health of her daughter-in-law and grandson. She didn't seem to be suffering the way her husband was, so pray God it was just the chill.

"He's so small," Henry whispered, stroking his son's light crop of hair with gentle fingers. He had dreamed of this moment for what seemed like an eternity, and now that the baby was finally in his arms he could just burst with happiness.

"The chancellors will need to come in soon, Henry, and the priest for a baptism." Marie said, standing close to the fireplace to warm herself.

"He's already a Prince of France mother, the chancellor can wait to bestow titles and lands until tomorrow," he said, putting his son back in the cradle. "As for the priest, he'll have to wait until the baby is named."

His mother raised both eyebrows in surprise and Henry smiled; he hadn't shared with anyone that they hadn't chosen a name for the baby. It was unusual, but then, they were an unusual family. He was a prince who married a woman for love; a woman that for most of her life was a servant and did backbreaking labor daily, and continued to be hard-headed and self reliant even though she was now royalty. His eyes fell on his sleeping wife and smiled.

"We haven't decided. We couldn't settle on a name because we didn't know if it would be a boy or girl."

"I see. Well, you both will have to decide soon, now that he's born," she paused and smiled down at her grandson. "I knew he would be a boy."

Henry smiled a little sadly at his mother; he wished he could share the moment with both his parents. Marie understood and took her son into her arms the way she had when he was a child. Henry rested his head on her shoulder, feeling altogether more secure. The queen stroked her son's thick brown hair tenderly and pressed a kiss to his forehead before stepping away to kiss the baby.

"I'll leave you to be with your wife and child," she said as she walked to the door. "I will see you when they wake."

It was early afternoon when Danielle finally woke up. She felt tired but pleasantly languid, so she stretched her arms overhead and arched her body to shake away the sleep. In a chair beside the fireplace Henry was sleeping, the baby's cradle pulled close. Danielle slipped out of bed to join them, her body feeling deliciously light after giving birth. It was only then she noticed the ache in her body that spread from between her legs to her toes. She didn't pay it any mind, though, because seeing her husband and baby asleep side by side made her heart swell.

She settled at her husband's bare feet. He'd shed his boots some time during the night and tossed them by the bed, probably with the intention of crawling into bed beside her but never quite made it. Henry snored softly and, not wanting to wake him, Danielle turned her attention to her newborn babe. Inside his cradle, the baby cooed. She scooped him up in her arms and buried her face against his tiny little body. He smelled fresh and new, like the first breath of spring after a hard winter - it was a scent she knew would stay with her for the rest of her life. The baby made little sounds of contentment.

"What a dove you are," she said, scattering feather light kisses on the baby's face. "My sweet little boy."

He had his father's eyes, she noticed, as big and blue as the sky, but he would probably have her hair as it was rather fair now and might darken over time. It was too early to tell whose facial features he would inherit, but she looked forward to the discoveries with excitement. She took in every part his appearance and hardly noticed when Henry shifted in his chair. He opened one eye and started when he saw Danielle up out of bed, but she paid it no mind.

"Isn't he just perfect?" she said as the baby wrapped his little hand around her forefinger. Her smile, by some stretch of magic, broadened.

"He needs a name," Henry said, coming out of the chair a little stiffly to stand by his wife. "The chancellor will be here soon, I'm sure."

Danielle thought for a moment. She had never really considered names for children. Even though she had her dreams she never thought she would marry, much less have children of her own.

"What about Auguste?" he offered, stroking the baby's soft head.

"After my father?" Henry nodded.

"He would have loved to see him," she said a little sadly before smiling again. "Henry Auguste."

Henry's tired face broke into a smile. "It's perfect."

The couple kissed and praised their son's handsome little features for another hour before the chancellor and priest arrived. In a little private ceremony he was named Prince of France and would be crowned upon the ascension of his parents to the throne. A public christening was planned, where Henry Auguste would be named before the people of Paris, but for now the priest crossed holy water on the infant's forehead and blessed the little family.

That day, in the distance and all across the countryside, church bells were rung to announce the birth of Henry Auguste, the new Prince of France.

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	10. The Procession

Wow, sorry I haven't updated in forever you guys! I hope you like this latest chapter and I promise there's another coming soon. :)  
Disclaimer: I own nothing!

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Under the angry gray clouds of a late spring storm, a funeral procession marched toward the great open doors of the Saint Denis basilica. Dressed in heavy black mourning attire, the attending courtiers moved, protected by palace guards, through the streets of Paris. Swarms of townspeople came to glimpse the new King and Queen of France as they followed the funerary litter before them. Others came to denounce the dead king and his edicts, proclaiming that it was at the expense of the ever-suffering people of France that his dictates had been accomplished.

Henry, hearing their words, clutched his wife's hand for comfort. She passed him a look of understanding from under her black veil and shifted their son on her hip, who she insisted on carrying herself for comfort. Henry Auguste was now seven months old and altogether the least fussy baby Danielle had ever encountered. Even as they walked past the crowds of screaming people he stayed calm, only fidgeting to play with the edge of the veil that covered mother and child, babbling when it pleased him. She was thankful for his behavior now especially; everyone observed the new royal family, watching their every move with judgmental eyes. The Dowager Queen, with her retinue followed behind, wept silently for her lost husband in a self-made cocoon of solitude.

Inside the basilica the ceremony commenced among a thousand chrysanthemums. The choir sang with haunting voices as the priest gave the eulogy, speaking to the greatness of King Francis and his reign. Henry never let go of Danielle's hand, which squeezed his affectionately as he stifled his emotions. He was King of France and would not show his people weakness. Under her veil, Danielle silently cried for both of them. The Mass dragged on, pausing only for hymns to be sung and 'amen's to be said. When it was all done the crowd departed the way they had come, allowing the people of France to honor their departed king as he lay in repose under the banner of his reign.

It wasn't until they were shut up in their private rooms and the attendants had been excused that Henry let his grief free. He fell to his knees before his wife and sobbed into her black skirts until he no longer could. Danielle stroked his hair gently, allowing him the mourning she had not had when her father died. It seemed a lifetime ago now, and it was. Her life had, quite suddenly, become completely different. Six months of 'queen lessons' had educated her on how to speak and act, but she was still a little brash and independent as always. Until her coronation she was Queen-to-be, a title she never dreamed she would inherit, but her fears for the future became insignificant when she saw how broken her husband was.

"Henry…" She lifted his face gently to look into his eyes. They were glassy and his grief twisted her heart. "I am sorry, my love."

Danielle leaned forward in her chair and put her lips to his forehead, brushing his overgrown hair to the side. He blinked at her once before putting his head back down to her lap and hugged her legs around the mass of her skirts.

"Just let me stay this way a moment," he said quietly and she obliged him, her fingers threading through his thick hair.

"I never knew him, Danielle." Henry said calmly, the tears long gone. "I never understood my father the way you did yours."

"I was young when my father died." she said softly, picking her words carefully. "My father traveled extensively, but he didn't have the same pressures your father did."

"But you knew him. Not just as a person, but as a father. I never had that." Henry paused and laughed a little sadly. "The only time I can remember him being fatherly to me was when I learned how to ride. He put me up in the saddle with him and we galloped all over the grounds as he taught me what to do."

"That's a beautiful memory, Henry." She said, trying to plant the idea in his heart like a seed, but his face clouded.

"Yes, but the next day when I asked to ride he passed me off to a tutor. I didn't learn how to ride for a year after that, not until I had finally given up on him teaching me the way he promised. I refused every tutor he sent me until he finally snapped."

Danielle watched as the memory played across his face, revealing the neglect he truly felt as a child.

"You have to learn, he said. I'll not teach you, but you have to learn. After that I knew I would learn everything about ruling a country from everyone but my father, the King himself, the only one who could teach me how difficult it really is."

Danielle's eyes filled with tears as she stroked his hair, his pained words sinking into her heart. She never imagined her husband's life as anything but wonderful, being raised to privilege as he was, but she had never expected this.

"I'm so sorry, Henry. I had no idea…"

"You couldn't have, my love." He heaved a sigh. He felt guilty spilling his childhood neglect on his wife, who had suffered as a slave in her own home from childhood. "Your upbringing was much harsher than mine, I'm sorry for bringing it up."

"It's not a competition," she said gently. "At least we can be sure our children don't share those parts of our lives."

Henry smiled for the first time in days, thinking of his happy, healthy boy in the nursery and the babies that will surely join him in the years to come. He took hold of his wife's hands and pressed them to his lips fiercely.

"No matter what, I will always be there for you and our children." He promised, coming to stand before his wife. She stood and wrapped her arms around his waist securely, burying her face in the soft cloth of his black doublet.

"I know you will, Henry. I never doubted you."

The kissed, soft and sweet, for a long time. The stress of the day melted away while they were in each other's arms. Soon enough they had moved to the big bed they shared and dozed, arms and legs tangled together comfortingly behind heavy curtains.

It was nearly time for supper when they got up and went together to the nursery where Henry Auguste was playing, oblivious to the sad events of the day. Having recently learned the hiding game, he covered his face with his little hands when they entered and giggled wildly. Danielle smiled a little and dropped to the floor beside him, covering her own eyes. Henry watched as they played, covering and uncovering their eyes with squeaks of joy.

The nursemaid in charge of his care curtseyed. Henry nodded in acknowledgement and waved a hand to excuse her.

"We won't be long," he said as he sat beside them and pulled the little boy into the crook of his crossed legs. The child squealed with delight and babbled incomprehensively. The nursemaid curtseyed again and busied herself across the room. Henry hugged his son to him, breathing in his smell. It was fresh and clean, like springtime.

"My little boy," he whispered into the baby's soft hair. "I promise I will always have time for you." Henry Auguste babbled happily in response and played with his father's sleeve.

"You are a good father, Henry," Danielle said, taking his free hand. "And you will be a great king."

Henry looked down at his son, seeing the whole future in his bright blue eyes. One day, if luck favored them, he would be king. He closed his eyes and imagined his father how he saw him as a child. He was a distant and cold figure - a stranger. Henry's adolescent episodes could easily be blamed on the pressure and neglect he endured, but he couldn't blame his father now. The demands of a king were bigger than that of a prince, a fact that Henry was just beginning to understand, but he would not let his own son feel that weight as heavily as he had.

"I hope I'll be both," he said softly. Danielle leaned forward and kissed him sweetly.

"You will," she said. "I know you will."

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	11. The Wedding

Oh my gosh, you guys! I've had so many messages in my inbox about favorites for this story in the last week I can hardly believe it. Thank you all so much for your incredible patience and continued support for this story. I hope you all enjoy this chapter. I promise the next one will be out soon! R&R!

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

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De Barbarac Manor was in complete upheaval. The day of Gustav and Jeanne's wedding had finally arrived and Jacqueline was fussing over every last detail while Danielle watched amusedly. After graciously offering her new home as the wedding venue, Jacqueline had nearly taken complete control of the wedding details. The whole house was full of wildflowers picked from the fields just that morning and a great wedding feast was being prepared downstairs in the kitchen while Jacqueline gave orders to anyone within earshot. Danielle stood in her step-sister's old room listening to the hubbub in the hallways and laughed to herself, amazed by her tenacity. Jacqueline had never been one for confrontation, but she was now a force to be reckoned with.

Her eyes went to the groom who was standing nervously before a tall mirror tugging at his black leather wedding jerkin.

"Be careful with that," she said playfully. "You may just wring it to pieces."

"I'm so nervous!" he said, dropping his hands and looking at her through the mirror. "Were you this nervous? Well, I guess you would have been worse, marrying royalty and all…"

"My wedding was hasty and private," Danielle said as she grabbed his feathered cap from the nightstand. "I didn't have the time to be nervous."

"But still…" She jammed the cap onto his shaggy head and smiled warmly.

"You'll be just fine Gustav, trust me."

"But what about the wedding night?" he blurted before jamming a fist into his mouth and nearly knocking out some teeth. Danielle blushed violently and averted her eyes. She was obviously not a virgin as she was a mother, but she never would have chosen to discuss intimacies with Gustav of all people. Danielle glanced at the attendant in the room who was attempting not to laugh and excused them.

"Perhaps Henry could speak with you about that," she said a little awkwardly once the attendant had closed the door. "I'm not really… I mean, I don't…" Gustav only nodded violently.

Gustav's color had risen to a ripe tomato hue as Danielle exited the room, trying to stifle her shock and slight embarrassment. She pressed her cool hand against her cheeks to curb the blush building there and sought out her husband, currently in the gentlemen's den with Marc Laurent who was gracious enough to excuse them.

"Gustav would like to speak with you." Danielle said, biting her lips. Henry quirked an eyebrow.

"About?"

"His wedding night." she whispered. Henry paused for a moment before laughing.

"I am perfectly serious!" Danielle said fervently, her face pulled into a scowl at his apparent amusement.

"I know you are, my dear. I am sorry, I don't mean to laugh, it's only that I understand his concerns. I'll go to him right away." Danielle's frustration softened a bit and she kissed him.

"Do be good to him, will you?"

"Of course," Henry said, wrapping his arms around her. "You should go to see the bride, I'm sure she's completely nervous."

"Good idea, I have a gift for her," Henry's face pulled into a look of slight confusion that made her laugh out loud. "It's just a little something I'd like to share today, you'll see."

Satisfied, he put a kiss on her mouth before sweeping off down the hall toward Gustav's room, leaving Danielle to retrieve her wedding present and walk the other way toward the bride's chambers. With a nod to the attendant at the door, she knocked softly at the great oak door of the room that had once belonged to Rodmilla herself. She had not been inside her step-mother's rooms in almost three years and was thankful to see that Jacqueline had redecorated. The dark furnishings had been replaced by soft white gossamer curtains and a lovely crocheted bedspread covered the bed on which the little maid sat quietly in her wedding gown, hair perfectly arranged in dark ringlets around her head, almost blending in with the fittings.

"Jeanne?"

She turned to look toward the door and quickly stood to courtesy to the queen. Danielle waved her off, motioned for her to sit and sat beside her on the four-poster bed. The little parcel she had brought sat between them as she admired the bride's wedding dress.

"You look radiant," she said, and she was. The gown Jacqueline had procured for the bride was exquisite; the long sleeves were embroidered with seed pearls that continued in swirling patterns down the bodice to full, unembroidered skirt below.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," the girl said demurely, color creeping into her cheeks. Danielle couldn't help but smile at the young woman who had stolen Gustav's heart.

"I have a gift for you," she said, holding the package out to the girl with a smile. "Something old for you to wear on your wedding day."

Jeanne eyes the package for a moment before taking it into her lap; it was just a simple container, inconspicuous and tied with string, but once it was open it quite took her breath away. Inside was a quite extraordinary pair of shoes made of glass. Jeanne's eyes grew large as she carefully lifted one out to examine with careful hands.

"They were my mother's," Danielle began as the girl gawked over the gift. "I wore them to my wedding and had hoped to pass them on to my own daughter if I ever had one, but I'd like you to wear them for your special day."

"Oh, Your Majesty, I don't know what to say," Jeanne gushed. Danielle took the shoe in her hands and slid off the bed to Jeanne's feet. Like a loving mother, she slipped off Jeanne's simple shoes and replaced them with the glass slippers.

"Perfect," she said, smiling up at the girl. Jeanne's eyes shone with unshed tears that threatened to spill over her thick eyelashes, but the smile on her face revealed them to be tears of happiness.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," she said, pressing the back of her hands to her eyes. "I owe you so much thanks, not just for the slippers, but for everything I have today. Without your great kindness and love for Gustav I never would have known how he felt about me. I wouldn't be marrying him today if it wasn't for you. Thank you so very much, Your Majesty."

Danielle smiled brightly. "It's you I should be thanking," she said. "Without you, Gustav would surely be lost. His happiness is incredible to me. We grew up here together, sharing our hopes and fears for the future. He never really discussed marriage, usually it was traveling or becoming an artist, both of which he's accomplished. It's incredible though, even his art is touched by your love, it seems."

She paused for a moment when a knock came from the door and Jacqueline stepped into the doorway holding a fairy crown of tiny pink wildflowers.

"We're almost ready for the ceremony," she looked at Jeanne proudly. "You look just lovely."

She took her in from head to toe, motioning for her to make a turn. The full skirt of the gown fell softly against the floor and the glass slippers tinkled sweetly as she stepped. Jacqueline exchanged a glance with her step-sister, who only smiled.

"A gift," she said simply. Jeanne lifted her skirt to reveal the slippers and Jacqueline smiled.

"A very lovely gift. Mine pales in comparison," she said, holding up the fairy crown. "But it'll have to do."

She placed the strung flowers artfully on Jeanne's curling hair and took her by the shoulders. "Now, are you ready for your wedding?"

"Yes," she said passionately. "Oh, yes."

Danielle and her step-sister escorted Jeanne to the chapel where the wedding party was waiting. At the end of the aisle Gustav stood proudly, his nerves quite gone, and instantly Danielle was thankful she had sent Henry to talk to him. She took her seat beside her husband, who took her hand to kiss as the ceremony began. Jeanne was a vision as she floated down the aisle toward her husband-to-be, the glass heels of the slippers tinkling sweetly against the stone floor. Danielle and Jacqueline exchanged smiles as Gustav and his bride knelt at the altar and the priest began his wedding sermon. Everything was beautiful, the wildflowers that lines the aisle perfumed the air and the lit candles lent a romantic glow to the stained glass windows of the little chapel.

"We come here today to celebrate the joining of Gustav and Jeanne in the Holy Sacrament of Matrimony," the priest began, his robust voice echoing powerfully over the small group of attendants. "The Sacrament of Matrimony is nothing less than a sharing of God's own life…"

Henry leaned down to where Danielle's head lay on his shoulder and kissed her forehead.

"This reminds me of our wedding," he whispered softly. Danielle smiled.

"It is rather similar, isn't it? Intimate and lovely." She closed her eyes for a moment, remembering the little ceremony in the royal chapel a little over two years ago now. It had been such a great secret she hadn't even had a proper wedding gown, just a simple blue dress from one of the Queen's ladies who was about her size, but she had her glass slippers and Henry, that was all that mattered. When it was all said and done, the King himself placed her crown on her bowed head. When she opened her eyes, Gustav and Jeanne were exchanging rings.

"With the giving of rings and vows, I now pronounce you husband and wife in the sight of God and the Holy Catholic Church. What God has joined, let no man put asunder. You may kiss your bride."

The newlyweds kissed and walked back down the aisle hand in hand toward de Barbarac Manor where the reception would soon begin. Danielle and Henry would only stay a little while before returning to the castle, but Gustav and his new wife would stay at the manor until the following week.

"It was a beautiful ceremony," Danielle said to Jacqueline once the reception had begun and dinner was being served. The newlyweds at the head table were more than happy, they were glowing. "Thank you so much for providing all of this for them."

Jacqueline waved her off with a smile. "It was my pleasure. In fact, I might start doing this more often."

"Hosting weddings? Not a bad idea. The manor has really changed under your care, Jacqueline. I think you could do quite well with that."

"Well, Marc would have to allow me first," she said with a laugh, nudging her husband's arm. He simply rolled his eyes and hugged his wife to his side.

"I'll gladly allow you anything you like, my love, except another wedding so soon after this one."

"Don't worry," Danielle said with a wink to Jacqueline. "I'm sure it'll be a few months before you have another."

Henry sidled up to his wife and wrapped an arm around her. "My dear, I think it's about time we head back to the castle. I've some business to attend to this evening with my advisors."

"All right, but let us say goodbye to Gustav and Jeanne."

Danielle hugged her step-sister and brother-in-law goodbye before walking to the head table with her husband. Gustav and Jeanne were bent close together, whispering and kissing like newlyweds are apt to do, but they sat up as the king and queen approached.

"We have to be going," Henry said, reaching out to shake Gustav's hand firmly.

"But we'll be seeing you soon." Danielle finished, hugging Gustav and Jeanne in turn.

"Thank you again, for everything." Jeanne said, curtseying low as Gustav bowed.

"Yes, thank you. I'll be back to my duties in a week." Gustav said.

"Take your time and enjoy yourselves," Henry said, his eyes on Gustav, who smiled back. Whatever their exchange had been earlier, it seemed to have brought them closer and Danielle was relieved.

It wasn't until they were in the carriage on their way back to the castle that Danielle asked about what he said to the groom. Henry laughed.

"He asked me not to say anything since he embarrassed you earlier." Danielle blushed. "Don't worry, my love, they'll be just fine."

Henry pulled her to his side and kissed her sweetly before settling his head against hers and dozing. Danielle shut her eyes and drifted slowly to sleep as the carriage rolled on toward their home, ignorant of the dangers that lay on the road ahead of them.

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DUN DUN DUN. R&R!


	12. The Assassin

Hey guys! Sorry this chapter took a while to get out. I've been working on another writing project that I'd like to eventually post. If anyone would be interested to read it, let me know. Also, this chapter involves a little Spanish. I can provide translations if anyone needs them.

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

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He knew they would come this way.

The man in stood alone on the road, his blue cape swirling around his ankles in the rising wind, a bow clutched firmly in hand. The French scouts sent ahead of the royal carriage lay under the eaves of an overgrown oak, their throats slit silently by his expert hand. Under the wind he could hear the crunching of gravel under the hooves of the royal guard's horses and the firm roll of carriage wheels. He steadied his stance and pulled his cap down low over his forehead to obscure his face. He knew his mission was suicide, but if he succeeded the all the glory was his to behold.

"Halt!" cried the leading guard, putting up a hand to stop the soldiers and carriage behind him. This was the moment he had waited for.

"What business do you have here, civilian? Clear the road so we may pass."

The man lifted his eyes and swept them across the guards protecting the carriage, his eyes settling on the youngest of them all. He sat nervously on his horse, his hand hovering over the hilt of the sword hanging at his side. He smirked.

"I said, clear away from here," the lead guard snarled. "Do not make me ask again."

But the man did not move. With a nod from the lead guard the men moved to grasp their swords but the youngest was slow; before he was able to withdraw his sword the man's arrow found his neck and toppled him from his horse. The man drew his sword and swung with all his might at the lead guard who wailed as his blade caught his arm. The man drew back, ready to strike again, but a sound from within the carriage made him stop. The carriage door swung open, revealing his true target, King Henry II of France.

"No, your majesty, stay back!" Another guard yelled, swinging his sword at the man. He parried the blow with finesse but fell back to the lead guard, who caught him by the arm and forced him to the ground.

"What is the meaning of this?" the King asked, his eyes hard as flint.

"_Traiciono a mi Rey, y para que usted se morira en la mano_," he said, the words rolling venomously off his tongue.

"A Spanish assassin then, is it?" Henry crossed his arms over his chest. "Captain Deschamps, arrest this man. He will be held at the Bastille Saint-Antoine until I have heard from Spain."

"Until then," he said to the man. "Pray to your God that He is merciful on your soul. My executioner will be sharpening his axe."

"_Si usted me mata, otros entraran mi lugar. Preparelo para su batalla final, Su Majestad_."

The man closed his eyes as the guard brought him to his feet, not noticing the short blade hidden in his sleeve. With one quick movement the man sliced at the guards, slashing them soundly across their faces before he dove at the king. Henry reflexively drew the dagger from his belt and plunged it into the man's neck. He stepped back and dropped his bloodied dagger as the man fell to the ground, his life draining from the wound and into the dirt below.

"_Si es la ultima cosa esta vida para mi_," With a last gurgling breath, the man met Henry's eyes in the darkness. "_Yo prometo que se morira_."

The man's eyes closed as the remaining guards came to their feet, clutching their bleeding faces and bloodied swords.

"Forgive me Your Majesty, I did not perform my duties the way I should have and put your life and the Queen's at risk." the lead guard said, kneeling before the King.

"You performed admirably Captain; this man was a trained assassin of King Carlos I, sent to kill me and whoever stood in his way," Henry glanced at the young man who had died protecting him, his knotted stomach twisting hard. "If it wasn't for all your bravery, my wife and I would be dead. When we return to the castle I want you to send a search party out for the missing scouts, no doubt he met them first. Dispatch a group of soldiers to de Barbarac manor and check the situation there."

Henry returned to the carriage where Danielle was sitting, nervously avoiding the window and wringing her hands.

"Are you all right?" he asked, settling in next to her.

"I'm fine Henry, but what happened? I heard such noises." Henry took in his wife's frightened face and watering eyes and pulled her close.

"I can't tell you here, darling. We need to get back to Henry Auguste," Danielle paled. "Just promise me you won't look out the window."

He could see his words did nothing to comfort her. As the carriage started rolling again she cried silently, afraid for the safety of her son.

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R&R!


	13. The Plan

Hey everybody, here's a new chapter for you! Not much happens, but it's opening doors for great adventure! Hope you all like it and thanks again for your continuing support. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

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Marguerite had been lying in her little bed for hours but still could not sleep. The ladies with whom she shared her room were all fast asleep and had been since they fell into their beds, exhausted from the hard day of work. Even though she was bone-tired and would have to be up again in only a few hours, her mind was racing. The marriage between the painter and his little maid had set her into a fit, realizing she'd delayed a bit longer than planned in her own wedding details, but from all the men present at court she had finally picked the man she would marry. He didn't know it yet of course, but she was sure he was the right one. He was Emeric de Berengar, a baron newly come to court from his lands in Artois. She'd picked carefully among the attendants at court and although many were richer or some more handsome, de Berengar was young and had not been at court long enough to hold a grudge against her for past misdeeds.

Over the past week she had strategically placed herself to always be in his presence like a shadow, drawing his attention to her subtly as her mother had instructed when she was a child. She knew he had noticed her at dinner especially, she could feel his eyes on her as she moved gracefully from table to table, a silver serving tray settled steadily on her hip. She caught his eye purposely only once, lingering for a moment before looking away. When she glanced back, he was still staring. She was still attractive, but she knew she would need more than beauty to win this man as her husband.

From what she could observe, he was a rather quiet man. He could often be found in the palace gardens scribbling in a journal he carried at all times. What he wrote about no one seemed to know, but Marguerite was determined to find out. If she could see into his mind through the pages of the journal she would know how to win his heart. Agnes had told her where he was housed in the castle with his attendants which limited her in placing herself in his company while he stayed at court, yet she would work around it.

With the new royal couple becoming King and Queen in less than a week, the Spanish allegedly threatening war and rumors of assassination plots, the remaining families housed at the palace were going in droves. Former court favorites were returning to their homes in other counties to see the children and lands they had left behind until they were summoned to court again for the coronation. Marguerite knew if she could plant herself into the baron's household her plan would be greatly advanced. Servants were always being taken into private households, she only had to find a way to be taken into his. She sighed in frustration - she still had no idea what her next move would be.

"Marguerite? You're still awake?" A groggy voice said. Agnes, who shared the bed beside her, rolled onto one elbow to shift her red hair away from her face and blinked in the semi-darkness of the low lamplight.

"Yes," she whispered back. "I can't sleep for thinking."

"About de Berengar? Any ideas?"

There were few things Marguerite kept from Agnes, even things she hadn't meant to reveal she would tell her, but she didn't hesitate to tell her about her plans. She knew Agnes wouldn't use anything she said against her in the future, she was too kind hearted and honest, and Marguerite liked having a good friend who was invested her plans and dreams.

"None yet," she sighed again. "I can't figure out how I'll meld myself into his household."

"He's likely to invite you himself with the proper encouragement," Agnes said contemplatively. "You could find out what's in that journal he always carries?"

"It's always with him. I'd have to sneak into his private rooms and steal it while he's asleep." she whined, burying her face in her chilly hands.

"Or you could bribe one of his attendants to do it for you," Agnes yawned, dropping her head back down to the pillow. "Shouldn't be too hard for you, being beautiful as you are..."

Marguerite considered what she said as Agnes drifted back to sleep, her soft snores disturbing the early morning silence. Why hadn't she thought about bribes sooner? It was only natural that in a court such as this that there was a price for everything. Marguerite had saved about fifteen francs, sufficient to bribe a young enough attendant, though she hoped to part with no more than half. She would need to save as much as possible if she wanted to survive a move to Artois for new serving attire, but perhaps she wouldn't have to worry too much. Her mother had never provided a single coin for the provision of her servants; she used guilt and cunning to keep them employed and unpaid for years. Perhaps de Berengar was kind to his attendants; she would remember to ask whoever she bribed for that information but still, she prepared herself to part with her earnings.

Well before the other maids had risen to prepare for their long days at work, Marguerite was already on her way to the east wing with her coin purse tied to her belt. She would ambush his morning attendant before they came to wake the baron, if they were not there already, and have them procure for her the journal he carried. Marguerite paced the hall a few doors down as she waited, her coin purse jingling merrily against her hip.

Her stomach twisted with disgust at the thought of having to bribe someone. Why hadn't her mother shared with her more of her cunning? What's more, why hadn't her mother shared her escape plan with her? At times, the palace was a living hell. She was grateful for the friends she had made and the skills she had learned from them in her time of need, but she shared her mother's taste for fine things and she knew she would not have fled if she hadn't had plush accommodations waiting for her. Marguerite never expected her mother's affection, but her ambition had always lent her a certain kindness. To be abandoned completely was a devastating blow to her already cracked ego.

Her sulking distracted her from the sound of footsteps approaching. It wasn't until de Berengar's steward had opened the door did Marguerite notice him.

"Oh, you!" she said, probably a little louder than was necessary, and approached. The steward raised an eyebrow and shut the door.

"Can I help you, miss? I am quite busy." Marguerite took a step closer and the attendant retreated.

"Yes, I know. I mean, I was looking for you." She kicked herself mentally; was off to a bad start and the steward was beginning to look suspicious.

"I have a proposition for you," she whispered. "I'm willing to pay you for your help."

The steward looked quickly at the door and back to Marguerite before motioning for her to follow. They walked silently down the hall and into a window alcove. The attendant crossed his arms over his chest and leaned heavily against the wall, a sly smile creeping over his face.

"What is it that I can do for you, miss?" Marguerite took a deep breath and began.

"I need to see de Berengar's journal, the one he keeps with him." The steward's face grew wary.

"What would you need that for?"

"That business is my own," she snapped, but her temper died as soon as it had ignited. She apologized quietly.

"I want to become part of his household." she said meekly. The steward laughed. Marguerite averted her eyes, unnerved and embarrassed by his apparent amusement.

"Dear girl," he said once his laughter has subsided. "You don't need the master's journal to join this household. We're always looking for new maids. In fact, I'm looking to fill just such an opening before we depart for Artois. Of course, I would need permission from your superior."

"You shall have it," she said quickly. She fumbled with the strings of her coin purse and fished out a few francs. "Is this enough? For the information?"

"Keep them," he said, closing her hand around the coins. "You'll need them for better bribes. Once you have your permission, send for me and I shall collect you. My name is Claude Estebe for the house of de Berengar."

"Pleased to meet you, Monsieur Estebe, I'm Marguerite. I promise you will hear from me soon."

"Until then," he said. With a quick bow he excused himself back to de Berengar's quarters and Marguerite took off in search of Mrs. Renard, the head laundress.

Her heart hammered as she walked swiftly down the hallways and spiral staircases that led to the laundry room. What a stroke of luck it was to have met the head of de Berengar's house outside his quarters and to be invited so easily into his household. Now all she would need was Mrs. Renard's permission to leave and all would be well. Or so she thought.

"I simply cannot sign off on that, Marguerite." Mrs. Renard said, hauling a sack of laundry over to the bleach vat. "Even if de Berengar asked for you by name, you are working in the castle as restitution under the command of the King. If you want to go, you shall have to bring it up with their Majesties; they shall decide what you are to do."

"Oh, Marguerite. Remember you are helping to serve at dinner tonight. It's the last night of feasting before the final households depart and we need everyone on board."

"Yes, Mrs. Renard." Marguerite said as the older woman walked away, leaving her to her daily chores.

Marguerite smiled to herself. A silver lining. She would speak with her step-sister at dinner and ask her to honor their agreement through a household exchange. Surely, she could not deny her such a simple request.

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R&R!


	14. The Question

Hey guys! I'm so sorry it's taken so long to put out another chapter. My mother just got out of the hospital after having a rather intensive set of surgeries so I've been taking care of her and limited on writing time, but now that's she is doing better I can get back to work. :) I hope you all enjoy this latest chapter.

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

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Danielle could not focus on the dinner plate before her. The deadly messenger dispatched by King Carlos of Spain to murder her and her family had left her terrified. Despite Henry's efforts to shield her from the grisly sight, she'd seen the dagger and the dead man's bloody neck and knew her husband had been the one to do it. The thought soured her stomach so well she hadn't eaten in days - the most she could force down was broth and even that didn't stay for long. She'd chosen to dine in her room with her mother-in-law for a week but the last day of feasting required her presence as a figurehead, so she merely rearranged the piles of food on her plate until it was cleared.

Henry's fingers brushed against the back of her wrist under the table. She glanced at him and smiled weakly, but didn't take his hand.

"Are you unwell, my love?" he whispered, his voice full of concern. Before she could reply, a wave of nausea hit. She stood abruptly and bolted from the dining hall, barely making it to the outer hall before vomiting onto the stone floor.

Danielle took several slow breaths to resist another episode as well as the tears threatening to spill out over her eyelashes. She leaned heavily against the wall, pressing her forehead against the cool stone. Despite her best efforts, tears began to slide down her cheeks. Why did her husband, the man she loved, turn her stomach to water? He had killed to protect her life, she knew that, so why did his every touch make her…

She vomited again, this time into an urn near the door. She sank to the floor beside it, trying to shrink her body and hide, but the full skirt of her evening gown wouldn't allow it. The guards who had followed her as she ran from the dining hall appeared before her, asking if they could assist her to her room or bring the king to her, but she only buried her head in her hands and wept. It wasn't until she heard her voice that she even looked up.

"Danielle, are you all right?"

She was the last person she would have sought for comfort, but Danielle found herself launching into her step-sister's arms. She clutched her tightly, burying her face in the familiar fabric of her past. Marguerite's arms hesitantly came around to cradle the weeping woman as she spoke to the attending guards. She could feel herself being lifted and ushered through the hallways and up the stairs to her bedroom, but all she could focus on was her hand clutching Marguerite's rough sleeve. It wasn't until Danielle had been stripped naked and her large copper bathtub was lined and filled that her tears subsided. When she could see clearly, she saw Marguerite had taken up a chair by the fireplace and was examining a book she'd left there the night before.

"Such a waste. You have all the wealth in the world but you still cling to your silly books." she said a bit sourly.

"They remind me of my papa." Her throat felt hoarse as she spoke and she wondered if she'd been wailing as she cried.

"I remember," Marguerite said, shutting the book and replacing it on the arm of the chair.

"I'll take it from here," she said to the girl who had arranged the Queen's bath oils and soaps. She curtseyed and left without a word. Marguerite took up a comb and worked at tangles from the opulent hairstyle Danielle had worn at dinner. "Now tell me why you ran out of the dining hall like a madwoman."

Tear prickled at the corners of her eyes, so she wiped at them with wet hands and answered: "I don't know."

"I don't believe you."

Danielle took a heaving breath. The bath water was warm and inviting, but she felt cold. "I'm afraid. I'm so afraid, Marguerite."

"I never imagined that this would be my life. I wasn't like you and Jacqueline, dreaming of fine gowns or sparkling jewels, I just wanted things to be easy. I wanted my papa and I to be together always and to live a simple life at the manor. When Henry and I married, I knew my life could never be simple like that again and at first it was like a dream." Danielle face clouded. "But the dream has become a nightmare."

"I'm sure you've heard, just like everyone else, that an assassin attacked our carriage on the night of Gustav and Jeanne's wedding.; since then none of us have been without guards but my fear won't leave me. I cannot take a walk in my private garden without them by my side. I'm not allowed to even use the privy without an escort. Worse than that…"

She stopped and took a breath. Marguerite took advantage of the pause to soap and oil her hair before braiding it back with a ribbon. Danielle sunk down to her neck in the now murky water and hugged her legs against her chest.

"Henry killed the assassin. I saw it." Behind her, Marguerite rolled her eyes.

"You saw him kill an assassin who, if he had not acted, would have killed both of you and your son if he had the chance. He was a criminal and Henry saved your lives."

"But how many more men will die by my husband's hand if this event leads to war with Spain?" Her eyes began to water again as she thought of Henry at the head of a great army on some dusty Spanish plain, bodies broken and bloodied under his horse's hooves.

"Perhaps many," Marguerite said bluntly. "But it is to protect his family and his country. He is no regular man, Danielle. He can't just build universities and speak gently behind closed doors; he is the King of France and you are the Queen and there may be many wars to fight during your rule. Your role is as important as his. The people have to see you as the epitome of confidence and control in such hard times, but you can't do that if you fall apart every time he does his duty. If you cannot handle it then you should have left it to me."

Marguerite crossed to the window where the towels had been left. She could see across the lawn in the light of burning torches the courtiers who had just left the dining hall. Surely they were gossiping about the Queen's behavior, but the thought set a twinge through her stomach. Why she would suddenly feel protective of Danielle she couldn't say, but the idea did not settle well with her.

"Forgive me, your Majesty," she said after a moment, her tone greatly subdued. "That was out of line."

"It was true," Danielle said softly.

"That doesn't matter. Even if it was, you can't let the things that I or anyone else says bother you. You are the Queen of France; you chose this, not the other way around. Your coronation is in three days, so I suggest you pull yourself together before then and take your place in this new world of yours. Swallow your fears and rise to greatness."

Marguerite lingered by the window for a moment before taking up the towels and bringing them back to the tub. After she was dry, dressed and tucked in bed, Danielle grasped her hand.

"Why do this now?" she asked, searching Marguerite's eyes for an answer.

"I don't know," she said honestly. "But you should listen to me; I was trained for what you're only pretending at. If I were in your position, I'd be doing everything in my power to present myself as a strong, confident leader. Even if you are only a figurehead, you're the wife of the King and the mother of his heirs. I would be desperate for another pregnancy; healthy sons are the backbone of a kingdom."

"Doesn't your mother-in-law speak any of this to you?" Marguerite asked after a moment.

"Lately…" Danielle trailed off.

"Since the King's death, she's not quite been herself. She's become withdrawn and I hardly know how to speak to her about my problems when she has lost the man she loves. I had hoped to find a mother in her," she paused to assess Marguerite's reaction, but she gave none. "But it's not to be. It seems I'll never have a mother."

Again, Marguerite rolled her icy eyes. "Some mothers are overvalued."

"Mine was, at least. Look at how she left me here to service while she fled alone into the night. I'm not meant to be a laundress, she knew that, but she abandoned me here to this fate. Your mother did not leave you by choice. You're lucky not to have that upon your shoulders." Marguerite took away her hand and crossed her arms. "In any case, think on all I've said."

"I will," Danielle promised. "You've opened my eyes again, Marguerite. I don't know how I can thank you for what you have done for me tonight."

She knew this was her chance; it was now or never. "I do. I'd like to have my service sentence commuted."

Danielle blinked perplexedly. "Commuted?"

"Rather, I'd like to join the household of a member at court. His name is Emeric de Berengar, from the barony in Artois. His steward, Monsieur Estebe, has invited me to work as a maid for his household and I would have your blessing to accept it."

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R&R!


	15. The Coronation

EDIT: Because I'm a major bonehead, I've once again posted the wrong document file. Serves me right for not just saving it as a .doc file only. This is the edited, EXTENDED version! Enjoy!

HEY EVERYBODY! I am so sorry it's taken me almost the better part of a year to get this story updated; I really hope I haven't lost you all in the process. It's been a very busy year for me but now I have some time to dedicate to my projects, 'The Garden' included.

I hope you all enjoy this chapter and I hope you all stick with me. :)

Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING!

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The new King and Queen were brimming with excitement and delight. The coronation ceremony, which had taken place earlier in the day, was executed to perfection. The crowns had been placed with scepters and orbs, prayers sung and amen's said, then it was all over and they were on their way back to the palace to celebrate. It was only appropriate that this pivotal moment in their young lives should be marked with a masked ball. At least, that's how Danielle saw it.

As she looked out from behind a glimmering golden mask at the courtiers who danced in wide circles around the hall, she could feel only happiness. She squeezed her husband's hand under the table, which he returned with an open smile. Perhaps Henry was unaware, but she was thinking of the last time they had shared such a spectacle. It was a turning point; the night she had run away to the ball to confess to the man she loved that she had deceived him and to beg his forgiveness. Of course, the night had not exactly gone the way she'd hoped, but she had to acknowledge that if she'd stayed in the root cellar and ignored the wise words of Signore da Vinci - who was dancing with the dowager queen among the celebratory crowd - she'd still be sleeping by the kitchen fireplace at de Barbarac Manor. Fate, she believed, had stepped in to grant her a beautiful new destiny.

She took a moment to count her blessings.

"Shall we dance, my lady?" Henry whispered in her ear, removing his mask only enough to speak clearly. His eyes glinted with mischief. Danielle quirked an eyebrow, but allowed him to help her from her seat - _her_ _throne!_ - and onto the floor.

She could feel the people's eyes on her as they swept out onto the floor and fell into a Bourrée formation and for once she didn't care. Casting aside his mask, Henry made an elegant bow which she returned with a sweep of the deep blue skirt of her gown. The dance began, back and forth before switching partners and back again, spinning and gliding with elegance. As they passed each other by, Henry would brush his hand against hers ever so slightly. Danielle had to wonder if she wasn't glowing brighter than the jewels that were now perched on her red-gold hair.

As the dance ended Henry brought his wife in close, the lengths of their bodies touching, and whispered into her ear.

"You are so beautiful," he said simply. Danielle tipped her head back to be kissed in response. All around them was applause. A happy, loving couple was always good news when it came to royals; it meant peaceful times for the country and healthy sons for the nursery.

"Bravo, bravo!" Dowager queen Marie said, clapping and laughing as she approached the happy couple and embraced them. For the first time since the death of her husband, she was smiling. Signore da Vinci fell in behind her and wrapped his arms around Danielle without preamble.

"Leonardo, it is so good to have you here again!" she said, beaming.

"I would not have missed it for the world, Your Majesty." he replied, extending his arm for her to take. Together, the four of them strolled back to the royal dais.

"Oh, my dears! I had almost forgotten." Marie piped suddenly, coming to her feet and calling out to the dancing procession. "In honor of Your Majesties, I have commissioned a special performance for you all!"

Excitement rippled through the crowd as they found their seats. With a nod from the dowager queen, the band piped into a merry fluted tune and four young ladies in lovely white ballet attire sprung from the doorway at the end of the hall, prancing and leaping to the awe of the crowd. With a glance to her husband, Danielle could see that he was delighted as well.

The young ladies made their way to the platform where the royal family was seated and curtsied low, their hair ribbons fluttering, before leaping back to the center of the room. Through the doorway came a princely fellow dressed in gold, a horse figurine strapped around his middle to seem as if he was riding it. The crowd laughed heartily as he leapt neatly over the ballerinas who laid on the ground as rocks and logs for him to jump. Again, the doors opened and in came a pair of painted trees which the prince approached and pranced before, hopping from foot to foot. The music softened, a single harpist plucking a romantic tune, as the trees parted to reveal a beautiful peasant girl.

Henry and his wife exchanged glances with the dowager queen, who only smiled her lovely smile and nodded at the continuing performance. Danielle now knew this was their story.

Amongst thrown apples aimed at the prince, a man in an opulent dress and rouge stepped through the trees. Danielle laughed out loud at this obvious comical representation of her step-mother. The man corralled the prince to one side of the room while the peasant girl swept with an imaginary broom. The ballerinas split off in to pairs, one set to distract the evil step-mother while the other pulled the prince away to the peasant girl.

For a moment the prince and the peasant girl share a dance, but the ballerinas cannot distract the evil step-mother forever. She comes to take away the peasant girl while the prince watches after her. Two figures dressed in black robes with hoods take the peasant girl and hold her between their clasped hands as the evil step-mother wags a finger at the prince. The ballerinas, who Danielle now realized represented fate, broke the cage of the robed figures and set the peasant girl free. The evil step-mother, aghast, falls to the floor in a faint and the robed figures carry her out the door.

The prince and the peasant girl, finally free, come together and perform a beautiful final dance. The ballerinas move in sweeping arches around the couple as they glide across the floor. Finally, the prince sweeps the peasant girl into his arms and bows to the royal table before they all exited through the doors.

The courtiers burst into applause. They all knew the story and were equally delighted by the romance. The doors opened for a final time and the theater troupe came in for their bows, presenting their congratulations to the new King and Queen, who stood to applaud their wonderful performance.

"Congratulations, Your Majesties, long may you reign!" The actor playing the evil step-mother bellowed, bowing extravagantly. With a grand sweep of his arms, he addressed the crowd.

"Long live the King and Queen!" he exclaimed, which the crowd echoed deafeningly.

It was nearly sunrise by the time the king and his wife had a moment alone. Danielle had stolen Henry away in a moment of rushed dancing to her private garden. Inside the celebration went on, but in the waning moonlight the garden was peaceful and quiet. Their personal guards were certainly lingering nearby as always, ever watchful of their new king and queen, but she hardly noticed them now. Danielle sighed happily and looked at her husband, who had clipped a white rose from the vine and was plucking away the thorns.

"What, am I to have a fairy crown too?" she said, touching her fingertips to the golden crown perched on her red-gold hair. Henry chuckled.

"No, I'm not that skillful my love." A hiss escaped his mouth as he pricked his finger on a stubborn thorn.

"You must be careful," Danielle said, taking his jabbed hand gently. A tiny bead of blood bubbled up from the injured finger, which Danielle wiped away with her handkerchief. She pressed her lips gently to the spot, meeting Henry's eyes steadily. Henry reached for her with his free hand, dropping the rose he'd been plucking unceremoniously to the garden flagstones. For the first time all day, he kissed his wife soundly.

"Now you'll have to have your handkerchief laundered," Henry said. "It'd be a shame to ruin such fine lace."

Danielle chuckled. "It's no matter; a tiny bloodspot doesn't ruin it."

As they sat together, another thought crossed her mind. Danielle glanced around at the guards protecting them, each nodding heir heads in acknowledgement as she met their eyes. She shifted a little close to her husband and rested her head on his shoulder.

"Henry, while we have a moment there's something I need to tell you."

"Oh?" Henry wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

"It's about Marguerite. She asked me if she could go to work for the baron de Berengar." Henry straightened a little, turning to look at her face in the moonlight.

"Whatever for?" he asked, his eyes suddenly very serious.

"She wants her sentence commuted; she's worked in the palace laundry for nearly three years, I think she's well learned her lesson."

"No," he said sternly. "Absolutely not."

"Henry, it's more than just that. I owe her a favor." she supplicated, taking a hold of the hand on which his wedding ring sat. "Gustav and Jeanne wouldn't be married now if it she hadn't intervened for me. She brought them together; if she hadn't, Gustav would be heartsick. And beyond that, she was the one who told me what it means to be a good queen."

Henry quirked an eyebrow. Danielle sighed and continued.

"A few weeks ago she cared for me when I was feeling uneasy. She explained some harsh realities to me and although it wasn't want I wanted to hear, it was what I needed. She'd been groomed by Rodmilla to take a place among royalty since infancy. Your mother, while she has been a wonderful tutor, has spared me from the difficult things. Marguerite knows me in a strange way, and because of that she explained what I needed to understand in the plainest terms."

Henry frowned, but his firmness had wavered. "Do you trust her?" he asked heavily.

"Yes," she answered, surprising them both. "I think I do."

Henry considered for a moment before taking her hands into his own and kissing them in turn.

"If you think it's wise I will support your decision," he came to stand and helped his wife to her feet. "For now, let's enjoy the rest of our night."

Danielle smiled as Henry led her back into the ballroom where Signore da Vinci was waiting for them. Danielle reached out an embraced the old man fully.

"Leonardo, it is so good to see you. I hear you've been invited to live in residence at the Vatican?" she said, kissing him on each cheek in turn.

"Indeed," he chuckled. "The Pope is adamant that I join Raphael and Michelangelo there; he is a great collector of artists it seems, although they both see me as more of a nuisance."

"Nonsense." Danielle said with a smile. "Your flying machines will change the world."

The old man laughed heartily. "If the Pope were interested in my flying machines, I'd have to question his commitment to God. Michelangelo says my sketches are an affront to Catholicism."

"Your vision of the future has certainly charmed us, Signore." Dowager queen Marie interjected, coming to stand with them from her place on the dais. Danielle passed her a thankful look.

"I am honored by it, my lady." he said with a flourishing bow, which made her laugh.

"So tell me, what has happened to my protégé?" he asked, addressing the new king and queen.

"Gustav is recently married," Danielle said. "He and his bride are returning to court tomorrow. Will you be staying long?"

"For a week, Your Highness. Rome will be asking for me if my return is delayed; the Pope had commissioned me for a special portrait."

"Well, if papal duty ever becomes too tiring for you, you are always welcome to join us at Amboise." Henry suggested, taking his wife's hand. "We'll be leaving Paris on progress within the month - before the autumn chill."

"Amboise?" he asked with eyebrows raised.

"For the children," Danielle said simply, placing her free hand on her abdomen with a bright smile. Both Signore da Vinci and dowager queen Marie exchanged surprised looks with the couple.

"We were going to announce it when we know for sure," Danielle said softly. "I've missed my monthly cycle but have yet to consult the physician. It's early yet."

"Oh, my dears!" Marie exclaimed, her eyes misting at the thought of another grandchild. She clasped hands with her daughter-in-law, barely able to contain her joy. Signore da Vinci clapped Henry on the back robustly.

"We'll summon the physician in the morning." Marie said excitedly. Just as she did, the sun broke through the Eastern windows.

"Perhaps in the evening," Henry chuckled. "For now, I think my wife and I shall retire to our room for the day."

Returning to the dais, the King addressed the last of the coronation guests.

"My friends!" He called loudly, beaming his bright smile across the celebratory crowd as a steward poured one last glass of wine for him to raise. "My wife and I thank you for joining us in celebrating this special day for our kingdom. As this day draws to a close, I know that my family and I are secure in your loyalty and affection. Friends, enjoy the bounty of my kitchens and the depth of my cellars. As for me, I shall retire with my beautiful wife."

Amid the cheers of courtiers and servants alike, the King and Queen retired to their bedroom where Danielle put her crown into its velvet lined box and threw herself on to the big bed they shared, exhausted. Henry sat down beside her, kicking off his boots and tossing them across the room. With a big sigh, she rolled over onto her stomach and propped herself up by her elbows to admire her handsome husband. He caught her staring and smiled.

"Are you happy, my love?" he asked softly, brushing an errant strand of red-gold hair out of her face.

"Yes, incredibly," she said, grasping him by the sleeve and pulling him down to her. He laughed heartily and clutched her to him. For a long moment they simply laid together, breathing deeply.

"Do you think we should have told my mother sooner?" he asked, kissing her on the top of her head.

"No," she replied. "I wouldn't trade the look in her eyes for anything. Besides, nothing is certain yet."

"Soon, my love," he said, placing a hand on the warmth of her belly. "Soon." 

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Okay everybody, that's it for this chapter! Reviews make me happy!


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